Two and a half weeks came and went and Kowali still hadn't buried his brother or his husband.
He often stayed on the deck of the Scarlet Reaper, sitting next to their bodies covered by a dirty, hole riddled blanket. The shame of it ran deep like the roots of an old tree, but he couldn't bring himself to do their traditional customs. Not when it was he himself who turned against his father, angered him to the point he lashed out, resulting in Gwambi's death.
Now he wasn't so sure if he could perform the passage ritual that sent off spirits of the dead. They hadn't passed on. He felt their ghosts wandering around in the night near the place they lost their lives. Kowali forced himself to stare at the blood staining the wooden boards.
While Razmyr recovered from his injuries, Aron was left commanding the crewmates, had them scrubbing and cleaning, yet the stains would not move like all the others had. Shapelose mort. Sleepless death.
